


Wallpaper Watchers

by MrsCaulfield



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Angst, Warning for suicide themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCaulfield/pseuds/MrsCaulfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of four students and a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wallpaper Watchers

_How do you know your perceptions are real?_

In Hope’s Peak Academy, there is somebody who’s called The Mastermind. It was never official, just something the students have gotten used to after some time. No, it wasn’t the idea of the administration, though that would have made things a lot easier. No, this doesn’t take place within the walls of the academy. It is just something that is. Every Hope’s Peak student knows that.

There is a vacant lot next to the academy’s premises, a thick brick wall running in between the two. No one knows who owns the vacant lot, or if it’s owned at all. It is just something that is.

In this vacant lot, the students are unrestricted by anything. This is the place where they learn how to be themselves, where facades are stripped bare and are open for the world to see. In here, social cliques don’t matter. Your mistakes don’t matter. You are welcome. You are anonymous. You are just something that is.

An unfinished infrastructure stands on the vacant lot. It is unfinished because there’s no roof to shelter its occupants from the scorching heat or the hazardous downpours. There are no tiles or wood on the floor and no furniture to gawk at. Instead, there is only a single white wall, and here all the students are free to be.

Nobody knows how the job of The Mastermind came about. One day, somebody just noticed that something had been posted there—a clean sheet of bond paper that contained a printed sentence in Helvetica font size 40:  _Are you still in the matrix?_

Surprisingly, a lot of students were intrigued and wrote down their answers. There were a few outstanding ones while others were the typical teenage tomfoolery, such as the dreaded  _LEON WUZ HERE_  and the ever-so-popular drawings of dicks. But one thing was certain. From then on, The Mastermind did not stop. The Mastermind changes the question each week. Without fail, each Monday morning there is always a new phrase on that white wall at the vacant lot beside the academy. Over time, students started neglecting the piece of paper and brought paint so they could write their answers on the wall itself. And each Monday morning, there is always a fresh coat of white paint over all of them, a signal of a fresh start. There are no rules as to what you can answer. You can write something in response to The Mastermind’s question or something completely unrelated to that. Just go wild.

The identity of The Mastermind has always been an enigma to the students, a shadow that lurks within the walls of the academy but never shows. One thing was certain, though. Whoever this Mastermind is, they have touched the life of every single Hope’s Peak student in one way or another.

It is 11:58 PM on a Sunday. The moon is hidden by a layer of dusty clouds and casts minimal glow. I hold the flashlight in front of the blank wall and start painting over the words that are written there. It’s time for a change.

My name is Makoto Naegi. I am The Mastermind.

-

_I think I’m going to die._

My perceptions? What does The Mastermind care about my perceptions?

I’ll know my perceptions are real when the facts align, when they are all congruent with my senses. When each and every detail flows in natural order with one another. When there is no contradiction present in the equation.

It is that simple. I don’t need to write that down. So instead, I write something else. Something that has been bouncing around in my mind for the past few weeks. The one major contradiction in the otherwise superfluous inner workings of my mind.

I step away from the wall and head to class. After class, there is work. Where there is work, there is usually death.

The job of a detective is not an easy one. I solve murders for a living, and yes, it can get quite exciting, but most of the time it’s just exhausting. When every single burst of logic and energy has been drained out of me, I am unable to perform my job well. Therefore, I must always be in good condition.

But it’s not easy, being around death and mourning all the time. For a detective to perform their job robustly, they must be able to detach themselves from all emotion, which means detaching themselves from reality itself. It’s a simple concept. I have learned to conceal my emotions well over the past few years of my life.

It usually isn’t a problem anymore. I can face grieving mothers with civility. I can look a murderer in the eye and not quiver an eyebrow. But every once in a while, something will seem off, and I’ll find myself quite attached to the world and all that live and breathe in it. I can be chasing a killer up a flight of stairs in an apartment. I can follow that killer up, up, up to the rooftop. Once I arrive, that killer can be gone. And instead of figuring out the mystery of the culprit’s sudden disappearance, I can walk straight to the ledge and look down on the city below.

Great, rushing cars speeding past. Warm air and streams of sunlight. The skyline bathed with sunny glow. The clouds soft and white, turning to shards. The warm air becoming a suffocating element in this cold world that I somehow find myself tethered to. I can reach my gloved hands out over the ledge—left one first, and then right. They hover in the air, eager to give in to gravity. My toes are next, teetering on the edge now. My eyes close. The rushing cars keep rushing, but somehow, somewhere there is silence.

“Ma’am?” a voice interrupts my musings from behind me. I turn around and step away from the ledge. Slowly. “Miss, I’m sorry, but guests aren’t allowed in this area.”

I nod. “Yes, I’m sorry. I was just looking for someone. I was chasing after a criminal.”

The guard straightens up. “There is a criminal in this building?”

“He’s gone now,” I say, making my way back down the stairs. “You don’t need to worry anymore.”

The guard stands there, confused. “Come with me,” I say to him. He follows me down, back to the ground floor. We exit the front doors and find a group of people huddled over a singular space on the pavement. He orders them to stand aside, and they do. On the ground lay the body of my culprit, his head encased in a halo of blood, his fingers making quick little jerks and his hair caking with red.

My name is Kyouko Kirigiri. I am definitely going to die.

-

_we are all grenades._

i don’t have many female friends. nah, they always seem to flock to leon than me. me, i’m just the beefy idiot that hangs around with anyone, and they’d probably mess me up if they could. i got a gang, so they can’t. probably the closest thing i have to a female friend is chihiro, but yeah, that probably doesn’t count. anyway, so one day i was hanging around at leon’s and he invited these chicks over. sayaka and celes and aoi. they said we were gonna watch a movie. i liked movies, so i said i’d come. but females are on the opposite side of the spectrum to males. well, conventional females and males are. ever since chihiro i’ve been wary of people who don’t fit within that spectrum. but if we go by that conventional spectrum, we’d get a 3:2 ratio, in favor of the females, so ultimately they got to decide the movie we were gonna watch. and of all things, they chose  _the fault in our stars._

it was an alright movie. there weren’t any guns or explosions but there was tp-ing so i was okay with that. but then this one scene stuck with me. no, not one scene. one line. yeah. one line out of the entire goddamn movie that i couldn’t stop thinking about ever since. it was the part in the swingset, where hazel grace said “gus, i’m a grenade.”

the moment i heard it, i perked up. the girls began patting their eyes with tissues because for some reason that was meant to be a depressing thought. yes, i guess it is pretty depressing because the girl has cancer and she can die at any moment, which was why she was a grenade. no disrespect to her character, but we are all grenades.

there are crazy guys with hiv that steal syringes so they can transfer their blood to unsuspecting bystanders. mountains that have been mined beyond repair and are only a few blows away from toppling completely. airplanes falling out of the sky to destroy everything it lands on. like choosing a fucking lottery winner. people go to sleep and never wake up. these things happen right under our noses and yet we choose to ignore the fragility of living and of life itself, how everything can be stripped away without warning, how your whole world can burn before your very eyes or how you can vanish without a trace and we choose to ignore these things because sometimes ignorance is bliss no not sometimes most of the time and the spontaneity of it all is exciting and depressing and all this is because we are. each. and. every. one. of. us. all. grenades.

the blank wall’s different again, of course. but as usual, the question’s deathly boring. this mastermind must be the most pretentious ass that ever lived. so i do my usual thing: write something that has nothing to do with the posed question. and i write we are all grenades, because it’s true.

“stop right there! put your hands up in the air and don’t speak!”

i roll my eyes and turn around to see the school’s nerdy hall monitor standing in front of me with his hands on his hips. “ugh. what now?” i tell him.

“what you are doing is vandalism! hah! i have been tracking down the mastermind for months, and now i finally got you!” he smiles smugly.

i laugh and his brows furrow in confusion. “alright, this is probably gonna sound weird to you, but this time, i swear it’s not me. i’m not the mastermind.”

he frowns. “but you were—”

“come on. look at me. do you actually think i can come up with all that sappy shit questions each week? and even if i could, i sure as hell wouldn’t want to.”

he crosses his arms on his chest and taps his foot. “alright, i believe you. even so, you were painting on that wall and that is vandalism! i shall have to write you up for that!”

okay, now this guy’s just being annoying. i roll my eyes again. “you’re that nerd who’s at the top of all the classes, right?”

this time, he looks proud. as in he  _actually. looks. proud._ “yes, of course. i take pride in my work and you would do well to follow my example.”

 _when pigs fly._ “some genius you are. this wall isn’t part of school property. it’s outside. your hall monitoring stops when we go beyond the hope’s peak premises, dumbass.”

he frowns again, stutters for a bit. what a dweeb. “you!” he pauses and shoots me a glare. it’s my turn to look smug. “i’ll—i’ll report this to the proper authorities!”

“ishimaru, this place hasn’t been visited by its owner in like thirty years. if you report this to anyone, i doubt anyone would actually show up to settle it. or care. god, loosen up, will ya?” i walk away and make sure to bump into his shoulder as i walk past.

my name is mondo oowada. i’m just about ready to explode.

-

_We can never be certain._

The pen feels heavy in my hand. Oh my goodness. What have I done? Why have I joined the madness?

As soon as the delinquent fled the scene, the current question managed to captivate my attention. How  _do_ I know that my perceptions are real? How do I know that everything isn’t just a dream or a mirage or a hallucination? How do I know that  _my_ perceptions are real, and not someone else’s? How do I know that the universe isn’t just making everything up for me?

I stare at the words that I wrote, my hand clenching around the plastic casing of the blue pen that I used to write it. How can so few words carry so much weight? How can one question printed on a sheet of bond paper cause me to rethink everything that I have ever known about life?

I did not expect to come up with that response, and yet the moment I got to the period I knew that it rings and echoes with truth. Nothing is and ever will be certain. At any moment, anything can happen that will shift our perceptions of the entire world.

If my perceptions can’t be real, can they at least be trustworthy? Because if it turns out that they’re not… That they’re all a fallacy… Then everything I’ve worked hard to achieve…

“No,” I say to no one in particular. “What I am doing is for a purpose. Where I am headed has a direction.”

There can’t not be.

I try to go on with the rest of the day as I usually did in the past, but the question refuses to stop nagging me. It reverberates in my head and plays on infinite repeat. How do you know?  _How do you know?_

There are more important things to think about, such as my duty as head of the discipline committee and that chemistry project that needs to be done. All this is for a purpose, I remind myself, if only to keep myself slightly sane. Nothing will be wasted.

But then again, those are my perceptions. And how do I know they are real?

Mondo Oowada sits in front of me in algebra class. He is so tall and that obnoxious cornhead of his blocks my view of the blackboard. I have tried to convinced sensei to change our seating arrangement many times, but my efforts were all in vain. Oowada probably hates sitting at the front row, but he does seem to enjoy my misery. 

“Alright there, hall monitor?” he asks mockingly. I avoid his gaze. “Good to see you’re not in the mood to slam detention slips at my face right now.”

“Please be quiet. I am trying to study.”

He leans closer, the tip of his cornhair poking my forehead. I swat it away. “Did you do that assignment yesterday?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Alright, good. Lemme copy off you and I won’t bother you for the rest of the week.”

I shoot him an incredulous look. “Cheating is against the school rules! You will get in trouble for that, Oowada-kun!”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, man. Help a guy out here. I’m gonna fail this class if you don’t gimme your answers.”

“And that is your own fault for not studying. Plus, if you’ve been listening, you would have realized that there was only one formula needed to be followed in order to answer all the questions in the assignment,” I say, closing my notebook before he could get a peek at my answers.

“Then just tell me the formula!”

“It is your responsibility to know what the formula is. It’s not my fault you haven’t been listening—”

“Just tell me the goddamn formula and I swear, you won’t get a peep out of me for the whole week.”

I pause. An entire week without Oowada pestering me? It seems too good to be true, and yet here it is being offered to me. I purse my lips. Well, giving away the formula doesn’t count as cheating anyway. He still has to figure out how to apply it on his own.

He stares at me with a hopeful expression on his face. “A whole week?”

“Man’s promise.”

“Fine.”

My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru. I actually have no idea what I am doing, but please try not to judge me.

-

_Don’t. I’ll be lonely._

This bugs me. Why does this person think they are going to die? Are they being pursued by someone? Or do they just want to die? Or maybe they have a terminal illness? I can’t stand it. To think that someone in this school expects an imminent death… It’s not right.

I write down my own response directly below it. It’s written in black paint, the brush strokes neat and the letters perfectly aligned. My own writing is sloppy compared to it. But if it makes this person feel better, even just a little bit, then I’ll be content.

But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. When I started this wall thing, I expected to know the different sides to all sorts of people. At first I thought I already knew everyone in this school very well, but reading their responses, I couldn’t figure out which writing belonged to whom and that’s when I realized that we are all wearing masks.

And it’s interesting and it made me want to know more, which was why I kept doing it. However, out of all the replies that I got, of all the things written on this one blank wall, nothing has stood out to me the way this message did.  _I think I’m going to die._  No, it didn’t just stand out to me. It cried out to me for help.

I can almost hear the author’s voice in my head, full of sadness and uncertainty. ‘I  _think_  I’m going to die’. The person isn’t sure. Maybe the person doesn’t know. A heavier thought runs through my mind: Maybe the person is still  _deciding._

Whoever this person is, I want to make sure that they will treasure their life. That they will learn to seek hope and optimism. I want them to be happy. I want them to stop being scared.

And so I write down my response, and hope I get another reply too.

-

_There will always be another me._

This is unexpected. No one has ever responded to any of my blank wall writings before. It’s rather peculiar. It’s a nice sentiment, but hardly a believable one. This person doesn’t even have any idea who I am. I write another reply under it. Such an act is probably unwise, but there’s no harm in entertaining mundane things every once in a while.

After my daily habit of reading the blank wall, I enter the doors of Hope’s Peak. I find Makoto Naegi standing in the middle of the hallway. I approach him.

“Naegi-kun, why haven’t you gone to class yet?”

He smiles. Of course he does. “I was waiting for you, Kirigiri-san! We can go in together.”

“You don’t have to walk me to class each day. It is appreciated, but not necessary.”

“No, no, it’s alright! It’s no trouble at all.”

And so, because he suggested it, we walk together. Our footsteps are drowned by the hallway noise. Our speech is limited. But if there is anyone in this world who makes me feel  _something_ , it would be him. I have been used to suppressing my emotions and because of that, I always feel as if I am at the locked jaws of death. But when he’s around, he spreads this bright aura. He exudes cheerfulness. It’s impossible to remain unaffected. Attempting to avoid it is futile. My feelings for him are rather complicated and cannot be put into a few words. Here is the gist of it: he draws me away from my perceptions of death and despair. Even if just momentarily.

“Hey, Kirigiri,” he says shyly once we’ve taken our seats. He scratches the back of his head. “You can talk to me, alright? Always.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling grows in my stomach. I avert my gaze. There is a hammering in my chest. A row of flickering fires reaching up from the pit of my stomach. My lungs contracting and expanding more visibly than normal. My long hair makes a curtain so that it hides my face from his view. “Yes. I know.”

He shifts his position next to me and his fingers pop out through my hair, sweeping the curtain aside and pinning it behind my ear. The flickering fires intensify. They reach up, higher and higher and tug gently at my heart. His smiling face fills my vision. My hands quiver. “Cheer up, alright? You’re very pretty when you smile.”

-

_who are you???_

we can never be certain. who is this guy. who the fuck is this guy. or chick. or whatever. just. what the fuck???

we can never be certain. what bullshit. that’s the stupidest fucking thing i’ve ever heard. it’s the stupidest thing in this entire fucking wall. i’m gonna find the person that wrote this. i will.

hm. maybe if i try to actually be smart for a while, i  _can_ find out who wrote this. alright, mondo. let’s wipe off those cobwebs in that shitty brain of yours and get to work.

the dude didn’t even paint it. yep. i’m assuming it’s a dude now because of the handwriting. because i’m trying to channel ‘smart’ me and smart me would know that kind of stuff. he just used a regular pen and wrote on the paper itself. and out of all the writings here, this is the only reply that actually answers the question. like a fucking grade school student, eager to follow the rules and shit.

and just like that, it clicks.

there’s only one person in this school that’s so hellbent on following every single word, down to every point and comma in the rules. we can never be certain. that… doesn’t sound like him at all.

what. is. he. thinking?

i look back at the handwriting again and try to connect it to the image of ishimaru. we can never be certain? why would anyone say that? and why the fuck did it make so much damn sense?

it’s so pretentious. so phony. it’s just a piece of shit writing just like all the other piece of shit writings. but. it. was. different. all. the. same.

in other news, it’s almost august fifth. i plan on doing the usual. camp out under the stars and shove garlic bread at my face for hours on end like the pathetic little weasel that i am. i’ll be staring at a remnant. hang out with the only person i know who is incidentally  _not_  a grenade, but a detonated bomb.

-

.

I can’t even muster the courage to reply to that. If anyone finds out that I was the one who wrote that… it can hurt my reputation as a model student. 

Granted, I didn’t actually do anything illegal, but it was still uncouth and lacking in conduct. If it were to be revealed that I have done such a thing, I will have dishonored my entire purpose and the credibility of the laws that I’ve worked so hard to uphold. So I don’t reply.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Mondo Oowada asks me during algebra class. Since he made the promise to leave me alone for the rest of the week, I don’t look up from my desk to reply to him. “Hey,” he says again. I let out an audible groan.

“I thought you said you are not to bother me for the next few days, Oowada-kun. And if you don’t mind, I’d like for that deal to be implemented as soon as possible.”

He opens his mouth, only to shut it again. Thankfully, he turns back towards the front of the class and I resume my writing.

“But it can’t be anyone else! Nah, it was definitely you.”

I shoot him a glare. “What are you even talking about?”

His expression drops into a deadpan, the color of his irises assuming a darker tone. “‘We can never be certain’. That was you, wasn’t it?”

My head snaps toward him. The noises of the room seem to die down in order to draw focus to my quickening heart beat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie smoothly.

“Tsk.” It definitely doesn’t look like he bought it. “I know it’s you. I want to know why you wrote that on the wall.”

“I did no such thing. Oowada-kun, you are not keeping up your end of the deal and I—”

“Why can’t you just admit that you did it?”

“You have no proof that I did!”

He leans back, startled. He knows that I’m right. He ducks his head and turns to the front again. I release the breath that I’ve been holding. This isn’t good. If Oowada recognized my writing that easily, who’s to say that others won’t as well? My fists clench, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms. I never should have done it. I never should have written on that stupid wall and I never should have given into the temptation in the first place. I truly regret it now. And the worst part is I am still not certain how true my perceptions actually are.

After class, I exit the room, my thoughts already trained on the next class that I’m headed to. Suddenly, a blow from behind stops me in my tracks. The next thing I know is that I have my back pressed against the wall and Oowada is standing in front of me, his fist bunched up on my shirt.

“Oowada! You are wrinkling my pristine uniform! Let go!” I grab his fist, press down hard, and swing it away from me. I look at him, seething.

He takes my notebook from my hands and opens it to a random page. Then he takes out his phone, which displays a photo of the writing that I made on the vacant lot wall. I gulp. “Wh-what the—?”

“It’s the same handwriting,” he says plainly. “Don’t lie to me anymore. It won’t work.”

My jaw drops. “Th-that’s… I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, I know, dumbass. Why’d you write it?”

“I… I don’t know. I just wanted to answer the question.”

“‘We can never be certain’. What does that mean? What were you thinking when you wrote that?”

“Oowada, are you okay? You seem more distressed than normal.”

His face comes a fraction of an inch closer as he yells, “It’s August fifth, do I look like I’m fuckin’ okay?”

I freeze up. “August… fifth? Today?”

“Yeah, genius. That’s the date.”

My hands fly up to cover the gasp I make. I close my eyes, willing my thoughts to calm down. “No. No no no no no! It can’t be.”

I’m probably making a scene, because this time he looks genuinely concerned. “H-hey, what’s the matter?”

I shake my head frantically. Without so much as an explanation, I twist on my heel and start briskwalking to my next class. My hands are shaking and my knees are wobbly. It’s August the fifth. Of course. How could I have forgotten?

-

_Please talk to me._

I also leave a time and a place after that. Hopefully the mystery person will show up. They don’t seem to be in a good place at the moment. I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do to help.

That’s just the kind of person I am: optimistic, helpful, considerate. For as long as I can remember, I have always been hyper aware of the feelings of those around me, always trying to make sure that they are alright and are up and running. I’ve always had this great need to see everyone happy, and I always go to great lengths just to see a smile on their face. Komaru thinks it’s dumb, but I like cheering people up. I’ve never been good at anything. I don’t have any talents or skills that makes me stand out from the rest and I have no idea what I have to offer to the world. This way, I feel that I am needed, that somehow I am part of the world’s equation instead of being just an extraneous root.

Okay. I guess I’m pretty good at math, but not like, super high school level mathematician type. 

I’m a passive person. I see and I observe. I perceive the world around me and try to go around making connections with as many people as possible, but never stay enough to actually get to know them.

When I started going to Hope’s Peak, I saw instantly how many voices cried out. Nobody said them outright, of course, but I knew they were all desperate to be heard. And that’s why I started the wall. That’s why I became The Mastermind. Because I want to hear those voices. I want everyone to feel that they are a part of the world’s equation too, to realize that the reason why we are all here is to lighten one another’s burden and make this difficult world somewhat more bearable.

This person has voiced out their cry of expecting/wanting to die. I want to listen.

“Fancy meeting you here, Naegi-kun.”

I jump slightly at the sound of the newcomer’s voice. I’ve never encountered another person on the wall before. I relax my shoulders and remind myself that I wasn’t doing anything that could possibly imply that I’m The Mastermind. Kirigiri steps up right beside me, so close that I could trace the scent of her vanilla shampoo. 

“Do you visit this wall too, Kirigiri-san?” I ask her.

“Now and then, yes,” she says contemplatively. Her hair glows gold under the sunlight and accentuates her pale skin. 

“I-It’s interesting, isn’t it? To see so many people who otherwise wouldn’t have talked to one another just open up like this. It’s wonderful.”

“I have to disagree. Some of these thoughts were never intended to be let out.”

I am puzzled by this, so I decide to challenge her. “Why do people feel the need to bottle up their thoughts and emotions? Having an outlet for them is actually a good thing.”

“No, it makes things more complicated.”

“I don’t think that at all,” I say, shaking my head. “It makes people feel that they aren’t alone. It’s like that red string of fate belief that some people have, where we are all somehow connected to one another. I like to envision the world in all its glory, covered by land and water and clouds. And above all that, a massive network of red, extending to all directions, grazing over everyone’s hearts, connecting our thoughts and our actions. This wall is like a miniature model of that.”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, her eyes run over all the writings on the wall. There are a lot, as usual. We are quiet for the next few minutes. It’s not awkward or anything. The silence is welcome. Kirigiri doesn’t talk much, but when she does she says the most important things.

“I think he’s lonely,” she says, still with that same contemplative expression.

I raised an eyebrow. “Who is?”

“The Mastermind,” she states without missing a heartbeat. “I’ve heard many theories. Some say The Mastermind is a teacher in this school. Others say The Mastermind is a retired philosophy professor who enjoys getting a kick out of the youth. I think The Mastermind is neither. I think he’s the loneliest person on this planet.”

I am struck by her words. Is that honestly what she thinks? “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m a rather perceptive person. Only someone very lonely will think of starting something like this.”

“What about you? Are you lonely?”

This time, it’s her turn to be surprised. She bites her lip and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Why does it matter whether I’m lonely or not?”

“It matters to me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

She smiles. “There’s nothing wrong with being lonely. People get by well even without the company of others.”

“I can’t imagine why that would be an ideal way to live.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

-

“Why won’t I understand?” he asks quietly. Carefully. He speaks in the same way that a child does. There is hesitation. Befuddlement. Gentility. He is childlike with regards to aesthetics too. He turns to face me. And he has big eyes filled with warmth and questioning. As if every little thing in the world is still a wonder to him. He looks at me like an infant whose gaze is transfixed on a crib mobile. It is a rather peculiar thing, the way he looks at me as if I am the only thing worth looking at. Though I can’t be certain if that is good or bad.

“It’s nothing,” I tell him. The confusion in his gaze raises tenfold. “Please forget that I said anything.”

There’s a new response on the wall now. A request. A place and time. This person wants to talk with me. Why? What is something in me that’s worth knowing?

“I’d rather you don’t feel lonely, Kirigiri-san.”

The words run a drill straight to my chest. Naegi’s pose is unassuming. He’s hiding something. It can’t be. He’s supposed to be someone I can trust.

“Being alone allows me to do my job well and without bias. It is pertinent that I remain lonely as I am not worth anybody’s time.”

“Who on earth said that?”

“I did. In fact, it’s odd that you have lasted this long. Others have realized early on that I am not a very interesting person.”

He blinks a couple of times. Licks his lips. Speaks. “I think you’re  _very_ interesting.”

A physical aching throb in my chest. I take a step back. Away from him. “There is nothing else to me other than my job. I solve murders and that’s it. In my job, it’s important that I take emotions out of the equation. And without my job, I am nothing.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Kirigiri-san… Why would you think that? You’re nothing like that at all.” He takes a step forward. I take another step back.

“Yes, I am. And soon you’ll realize that too. And then you’ll leave me alone, just like everyone else. Please excuse me.”

Pressure on the underside of the balls of my foot. The sound of rattling rocks underneath. Naegi’s voice calling my name, growing fainter and fainter until it vanishes. 

Makoto Naegi has come close. Too close. I never intended for it to get this far. I thought that as long as I remained a safe distance away, he would not be a problem. What I did not count on was him taking his own steps to move forward. Towards me. He did it without me even noticing. I let my guard down. And now he’s close. Close enough for me to push him away.

He can’t possibly think I’m interesting. I’m barely even human. Barely holding on. 

_‘Please talk to me’_

That person told me to meet them at the rooftop after school. Will it be worth it? This person won’t be different from all the rest. They will talk with me, and it will seem like a good, hearty conversation. Inside they will be thinking that I’m empty. And they will never speak to me again. 

There has never been a mystery too hard for me to solve, except for the identity of this person. And that has piqued my curiosity to infinite levels. Having said that, I guess there’s no harm in participating in just one conversation.

The bell rings for the last time that day. The hallway fills with bustling students. Idle chatter. Meaningless laughter. I ease my way through and start making my way up the stairs. The elevator will be filled with people. The idea of being cramped in a tiny place with all those strangers is unsettling, so I avoid it as much as I can. I usually have no problems with stairs, but on this particular day each step feels heavier than the one before. By the time I get to the last flight of stairs, my back is worn down completely and my arms drag limply at my sides.

I open the door. Fresh air greets me as I step out. I assume an air of confidence. This is just another face out of the multitudes of faces that I have seen. There should be no cause for panic. 

Except, Makoto Naegi stands a few feet away. His jaw hanging open. His eyes wide and expecting. Deep, dark nails scraping their way from my stomach up to my chest. A howling in the wind. Pain. Shock. Fear. Dread.

-

cemeteries are stupid. even its name’s pretty stupid. if i were to have the authority, i’d call cemeteries something cooler and more accurate like skeleton museums or death exhibit. altars of grief. mourning lawn. just anything but cemetery.

it’s august the fifth. my brother’s birthday. my dead brother’s birthday. it doesn’t even make sense, why i’m still celebrating my dead brother’s birthday. kinda defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?

what do birthdays matter to dead people anyway. it’s kinda insulting to celebrate birthdays when they’re dead. and what about death anniversaries? they’re pretty fucking stupid too.

“sup, aniki?” i say towards the piece of stone that never says anything back. another fucking stupid thing we do. “hope you’re alright, wherever you are.”

i take out a piece of garlic bread from the inner pockets of my blazer and take a huge bite off of it. “you’re not a grenade,” i say, shaking my head, “you were a fucking time bomb. as usual, i was too dumb to notice the countdown. from the minute you were born, you’ve been counting down, shortening the days of your life.”

i take another bite of the bread and shift my sitting position on the grass. “wish i knew what  _my_  countdown was. i’ve no idea, but i do know i’m so damn close to exploding.

“i can’t fucking wait.”

someone else enters the cemetery. instinctively, i look over at the newcomer. it’s ishimaru. what’s ishimaru doing here? that doesn’t make any sense at all. he walks slowly and doesn’t notice me. he kneels down in front of a headstone and takes on an expression of deep contemplation. he looks troubled.

“it’s august the fifth,” i say to no one in particular, even as i keep my eyes on him. “i’m stuffing my face with bread and talking to myself. might as well get some company.”

-

I feel nothing as I step inside the premises of the cemetery. I feel nothing as I kneel in front of the grave of my deceased grandfather. I feel nothing as I place down flowers on it and close my eyes, recounting my memories with him. I feel nothing.

Usually there is hurt and anger and vengeance. But this time there is something different in the air that makes me feel none of those. I’m not numb either. I know what being numb is like. Instead I just feel… apathetic. As if the matter is not even worth thinking about.

I don’t stay in my position very long. Pins and needles begin to shoot up on my legs and I stand up and jump on my toes to relieve myself of them. I take a look around and discover that I am not alone.

Oowada shoots a small wave when I catch his eye. Then, he does something that I did not expect him to do. He pats the space next to him and yells “Get your butt over here, you nerd.”

Confused, I comply. I walk towards him and sit down a few feet away from him. “This…” I start, my palms suddenly going clammy, “…is unexpected.”

He frowns. “How come? We’re both here to check out future homes, right?”

-

“K-Kirigiri-san?”

My throat suddenly feels dry as I keep my gaze on the person who just stepped through the door. She looks shocked too. “Naegi-kun?” she whispers.

“Why?” I ask, gulping. I don’t need to say any more than that. She knows exactly what I’m asking.

She crosses her arms and averts her gaze. “It’s just one of those things,” she says cryptically.

“No. Please. Answer me directly. Why do you think you’re going to die?”

“Who doesn’t think of meeting their own demise, Naegi-kun?”

“What?”

She looks straight at me now, her gaze harder than steel. “The last time I got up on a rooftop, I thought about jumping.”

“What? Why?”

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“No,” I reply firmly, “I won’t.”

“Shame.”

She walks right past me, but I grab her elbow to stop her. “Please. Let’s talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about?” her voice is so calm that it aggravates me. “You already know about my secret. Congratulations. Maybe now you’ll leave me alone.”

“I’m not gonna leave you alone.”

“How true are your words?”

“As true as I can make them.” I step closer to her and, with a stroke of brevity, take her hands in mine. “Kirigiri, you can talk to me. I’m gonna help you.”

“And what’s in it for you?”

“Nothing.”

“That is where your argument falters.” She retrieves her hands from mine.

“What?”

“Have you ever thought about how you are always so considerate of other people, and yet you never think about yourself?”

“But I’m fine.”

“No, you’re lonely.” A peculiar gleam appears in her eye, as if she’s suddenly seeing the world with more clarity. She connects the dots. “You… You are The Mastermind, aren’t you?”

I nod. “You’re the first person to find out.”

“Of course. It all makes sense now. I can’t believe I never thought of it. It never even occurred to me that… that you…” Her eyes go wide. “And you’ve seen everything. All that I’ve written.”

“Up until now, I never really knew which ones were yours. And I’ve forgotten most of them already.”

“This is really embarrassing.” Her cheeks are tinged with pink. She looks adorable.

-

He knows me. He’s seen right through my soul. Everything. My deepest thoughts. Those rare moments of something resembling emotion. He’s seen it all. But he has no idea that he’s the first person to come close enough to touch me. He raises an eyebrow and scratches his head. “Why would you be embarrassed? You’re very brave for writing those things.”

“Brave. That’s… new.”

He nods. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. I find it odd that you think very lowly of yourself.”

“Naegi, I’m a tool. My purpose is to think, to solve other people’s problems. To track down criminals and make the neighborhood a safer place. I am… incapable… of feeling anything else.”

“That’s not true.”

“The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can move on from me. I know that you feel it’s your obligation to make me better, but this is one situation you cannot control.”

“This isn’t even about that anymore, alright? I care about you and if there’s anything I can do to keep you from harming yourself, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

There’s a stutter to my breathing, but I quickly regain my composure. “You don’t have to say these just to make me feel better.”

His face takes on a determined expression. “You keep trying to push me away and at first I thought it was because you didn’t like me, but now I know it’s something else. So I’m staying here. When you need a listening ear, I’ll be here. When you need a shoulder to cry on, I’ll be that too. Or when you want to yell at someone or just about anything really, then yes, I’ll be here.”

The flickering flames are back. Heightened because of the cool breeze. The sunset creates a beautiful orange glow on the skyline. Naegi stands in front of me, his hands shoved in his pockets in a self-conscious manner. I am on a rooftop and for once I do not think of dying. 

I take one huge step towards him. My arms slot under his. My hands meet behind his back. My face presses against his shoulder. It’s sudden. He staggers a bit under my weight but quickly gains control. His arms around me, making gentle strokes down the length of my spine. Fingers running deftly through my hair. Surprise. Comfort. Bliss.

-

“alright. since we’re here, now will you tell me why you wrote on the wall?”

his red eyes go wide and he takes on a defensive pose. he sighs. “i guess there is no denying it now.”

“you want garlic bread?” i ask, grabbing some more from my stash. he shakes his head. i shrug. “more for me.”

“i wrote it because…” he stops, running a hand through his hair. “i can’t say this when you’re looking at me like that.”

“like what? i ain’t doin’ anything.”

“i know, but i… c-can you turn around? please?”

i stare at him, confused. “what?”

his neck cranes upwards as he bites his lip in frustration. “please! i cannot have your eyes on me while i say these things.”

“alright…?” i shift my position on the ground so that my back is turned towards him. it’s starting to get dark now. “there. you happy?”

he shifts behind me and suddenly there is a weight on my back. something tickling the back of my neck. i look back as best as i could without having to move my torso. he mimics my position on the other side, his back leaning on mine. he folds his knees and hugs them to his chest. “very,” he says.

i hesitate slightly before asking, “you okay?”

“yes, i’m fine.” i can feel him, each and every tiny shift in his movements, i know what they are without even having to look. it’s crazy. as if this simple thing caused us to become one person. “i have always been certain of everything. i have my future planned out in great detail and i have yet to deviate from the path. but when i saw the question, i realized that nothing is set in stone. all things are fragile.”

“there is no such thing as one hundred percent probability,” i supply. he smiles. i can’t see it but i know he does.

“you’ve been listening in our math class, after all.”

“you’d be surprised how fascinated i am with numbers actually.” my specialties include countdowns and death tolls. 

“i realize now that it’s impossible to be certain of anything. the best we can do is to trust those around us.”

“yeah, but they’re pretty untrustworthy too. they can be there one day and be gone the next. perceptions aren’t just an uncertainty, they’re also fleeting. you never know when someone’s gonna explode.”

“that’s a very depressing thought.”

“i’m a very depressing guy.”

he takes a deep breath. again, i feel it, the contractions of his ribcage and each stutter of breath that comes out of his mouth. his warm back pressed against mine and the slight tilting of his head that he does when he’s deep in thought. his fingers move and find mine. they graze lightly. tentatively. i turn my palm up and hold his hand tightly, using my elbow to carry our weights. and again, it’s ridiculous because now i feel his breathing going louder and his heartbeat faster and his mind making up scenarios and it’s his goddamn mind but i can see it played out in front of me just like that  _the fault in our stars_  movie and it’s stupid and i’m pretty sure he feels me too in the exact same way and that he feels for me the same way that i feel for him because we are both grenades and we know. now. how. to. delay. the. explosion.

he turns around and his arms dangle in front of my chest. his fingers splay out over my sternum, drawing out an energy that causes the thudding in it to get louder. i feel his breath on my ear as he nuzzles his nose into the side of my face. i release a sigh and a low hum of contentment, and then he whispers, “me too.”

-

My name is Makoto Naegi. Kirigiri’s lips taste of strawberry lip balm and coffee. I know that now.

She pulls back shyly, but she’s smiling too. Heat rises up to my face, making me slightly dizzy. I am too stunned to speak.

“I’m probably being confusing. Sorry about that,” she says plainly. Just like that, she’s back to showing no emotions again. “I won’t do it again if it bothers you.”

“Ah, I actually don’t mind.” I smile shakily. Real smooth, Naegi. “I-If it makes you feel better, you are welcome to try it again.”

When I first started out the wall thing, I had no idea that it would become this big. I had no idea that becoming The Mastermind will have so much responsibility. I now bear the innermost feelings of several Hope’s Peak students. I give them the outlet that they deserve. Kirigiri knows this and now she trusts me, and I will have to trust her too.

I’m no special kid, and one day I’ll look back at this crazy antic and laugh at myself. For now though, all that matters is that I have made Kirigiri smile. And I hope somewhere else, there are also other people who have been introduced to happiness in the same way, because it feels great. And cheerful as I may seem all the time, it’s actually been a while since I last felt that way.

She’s not fine. I’m not fine. But we’ll wait. Someday she’ll see herself as the wonderful amazing person that she is and I’ll grow out of my need to please others and actually learn to care for myself. These things take time. The wall, before being written over with scrawls of messy handwriting, had been blank and abandoned. Now it has life. I like to think that it symbolizes change. It symbolizes hope.


End file.
